


May you never be empty

by floodbringer



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Desperation, Hawkeye is more obscene though, Holding, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Trap is a pervert and he attends the meetings, Watersports, this is filthy I make no excuses for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23678281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floodbringer/pseuds/floodbringer
Summary: Hawkeye, Trapper, the O club, and a couple of drinks.The latrine's never felt farther.
Relationships: "Trapper" John McIntyre/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	May you never be empty

Trapper's really not sure why they're drinking at the O club tonight. He's tired, and had been looking forward to a quiet night, just him and Hawk and the still. Instead, Hawkeye had led them here, a tired smile on his face, and Trapper doesn't think to protest. The club is sparsely populated, and nobody is dancing after twelve hours of casualties, but the music is nice, as is the steady flow of gin. 

He just wishes, three drinks in, that the latrine was a little bit closer. 

"I'll be back," he grumbles, setting down his empty glass and pushing away from the bar. "Get me another, wouldja?"

Hawk nods, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed. "May your cup never be empty!"

John grins. "S'w-why I'm makin' room," he stage whispers, the gin going to his head now that he's standing. "Feels like I'm sloshing….o-or maybe the room is." 

"How can a room slosh?" 

"Might just be me that's sloshed," John shrugs, and is rewarded with Hawkeye's raucous laughter on the way out. 

It isn't until he's on the way _back_ that a thought starts to niggle at him, itching just at the back of his mind. 

He sits back down before he identifies it, his next drink already waiting for him, and it's not until he's worked his way through drinks four and five and another trip to the can that the thought finishes its labored path through his alcohol soaked brain. 

"Hey Hawk," he asks quietly, (or at least he thinks/hopes he's being quiet), "don't ya gotta piss?"

Hawk stops wriggling to the beat of the music, his bar stool protesting the sudden stop with a loud squeak. 'I'm fine," he says, his lips quirked in an odd smile. 

"Did I black out and miss you goin' to take a leak?" John asks. He's just drunk enough it's a legitimate, if unlikely, possibility. " 'cause I don't remember your cute little kiester leaving that stool."

"Nope!" Hawk says cheerily.

John frowns, confused. Hawkeye says he’s fine, but he’s also drunk more than he has, water and booze, and unless Trap missed a day in med school, the human bladder can’t hold that much liquid without some very urgent signals being sent.

Hawk tips back the rest of his martini with a smile and stretches, his t-shirt riding up to expose a strip of pale white belly. John’s eyes, as always, are drawn to the sparse trail of dark hair leading tantalizingly into his waistband, but. 

Something’s….different. 

Hawkeye’s stomach looks taut, distended, like he’d eaten too much, only Hawk never eats too much. John swallows hard, his eyes flicking back up to Hawk’s face.

Hawkeye puts his hand on Trap’s arm. “Told you. I’m fine Trap, just full.” He raises an eyebrow, and John’s mouth goes dry. 

“Ya mean…on purpose?” His mind is racing, putting together Hawk’s full bladder with how wiggly he’s been tonight. All night John had been watching him fidget like he had a fly crawling down his back (or a cock up his ass), squirming on the stool, pouring drink after drink down his throat, filling up. It makes Trap flush, half hard just from thinking about it. 

“Feels good,” Hawk whispers, fluttering his eyelashes. “I’m so _full_ , Trap.” 

“Hawk,” he croaks, and swiftly tugs his friend out the door. 

“Where are we going?”

“Someplace I can watch,” John says unthinkingly. 

Judging from the gasp Hawk makes, it’s the right call. 

He leads them behind some of the camouflage netting, impatient, finding just enough privacy to satisfy his need to not get caught, but still so enticingly exposed. He lets go of Hawk’s hand and turns to really look at him, sweaty and flushed bright pink, thighs pressed together as he bounces on the balls of his feet. 

“Ya gotta go, honey,” John says, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach and leaning against a crate. “You look like a wreck.” 

“Don’t wanna,” Hawkeye groans, pressing his hand against himself and dancing in earnest. “Trap it feels so _good_."

“C’mon,” and he slides into the role so easily, knowing what Hawk needs from him. “I wanna watch you Hawkeye, I wanna see all that glorious piss come out of ya.” 

“Fuck,” moans Hawkeye, fumbling with his belt buckle. “Trap please.” 

“You like that?” Trap smirks at Hawk’s breathy gasp. “Oh yeah, you _want_ me to see your cock dribble and spurt, don’t ya?” 

“Fuck, _please_.” 

“Good. Let me help you here,” John purrs, pushing Hawkeye’s shaky fingers away from his fly. 

“Damn it,” Hawk swears, a spurt of dark fluid staining his fatigues. “Please Trap, _hurry._ ” 

“I got ya honey,” John quickly undoes the zipper and pulls Hawkeye’s pants down to his ankles, pale legs on display. “I’m not gonna let you wet yourself.” 

_This time_ , he thinks, tracing Hawkeye’s twitching cock through his damp skivvies. 

Be, _fuck,_ it’d be fitting,” Hawk pants, pushing into his touch. “pissing on government property.” 

John draws out Hawk’s cock through the fly of his boxers, smirking up at him, Hawk trembling at his gentle touch. 

“Technically, _we’re_ government property. You wanna piss on me too honey?” he teases. 

“Yes,” Hawkeye admits, eyes squeezed shut. “M-maybe next time?” 

That idea shouldn’t burn through John like hot coals but it _does,_ gold collecting in his curls, dripping down his face, so completely marked by Hawkeye that he could never deny it again. He breathes out shakily, standing to cup Hawk’s cheek. 

“Maybe next time,” he agrees, brushing their lips together in a gentle kiss. “How do you want me this time?”

“Hold me,” Hawkeye begs, “Hold…hold my cock,” and he’s hard and flushed up against his stomach when Trap reaches around to grasp it, his chin hooked over Hawk’s shoulder. 

“Want me to aim for ya?” 

“ _Yes,_ ” Hawk groans, nodding furiously. 

John readjusts his grip, aiming for a rock a few feet away, and this is so intimate that it makes him shiver, in anticipation and a fair bit of unshakable, needy love for the man in his arms. They’re pressed back to front, as close as possible, John’s fingers wrapped loosely around Hawkeye’s cock, but nothing’s happening. 

“Hawk, I know ya ain’t shy,” he breathes in his partner’s ear, “so just let _go_ , honey.” 

It takes a second, but finally a bit of clear fluid, tinted gold, drips to the ground. 

“Good boy, c’mon Hawk,” Trap praises, “Keep going.” 

With a moan fit for the bedroom, Hawk lets go in earnest, piss pouring out of him in a rush. All those drinks, all that time he held, flooding to the ground with a _hisss_ , Hawkeye whimpering and boneless in Trapper’s arms. 

“oh fuck, oh god,” he babbles, drenching the rock, and John’s cock strains against his fatigues, grinding against Hawk’s ass. 

“Oh honey,” he gasps into Hawkeye’s hair, “Oh that looks so good, bet it feels so good, huh?” 

Fuck, the _sound_ , piss falling into the ground, into the growing puddle of piss and mud, so distinct, and the _smell,_ pungent and all Hawkeye, similar to the way he smells when they fuck but _more,_ intense and erotic. Not to mention Hawk himself _,_ slumped in relief, making the kind of needy, wanton noises John dreams about. He’s clearly getting off on this, on something so filthy and beautiful and _natural,_ breathing hard.

“I’m pissing,” he whines, twisting so he can nuzzle into John’s neck, gold still pouring from his cock. 

“Yeah ya are,” Trap grins wildly, rubbing slowly over Hawkeye’s cock as the piss starts to ebb. “Honey you look so good too.” 

Hawk nips at his throat, marking him up. “Almost done,” he says sadly, his cock dribbling. 

“Good boy,” John praises, stroking firmer, hoping to get a different kind of release out of Hawkeye. “Hon ya did so good, you _looked_ so good, good job, good boy, my good Hawk-“ he keeps babbling, pressing kisses to Hawkeye’s neck and cheek, anywhere his lips can reach.

Hawk starts to laugh a little, yet another form of relief and release, turning in John’s arms and pressing their lips together in a proper kiss. “I uh…feel empty,” he giggles.

Trapper’s pretty sure he can help with that feeling.

“oh Christ,” Hawk groans, John pushing into him right there in the dirt. “ _Trap,_ oh god.” 

“Told I’d make you feel full again,” Trap hisses, so turned on he nearly comes without a single thrust. Hawk is tight and warm around him, nails scrabbling at his back, piss cooling in a huge puddle just a few feet behind them. 

“You do, you _do,_ ” Hawkeye babbles, his cock smearing piss and precome on Trapper’s stomach. “please John, fuck me.” 

John snaps his hips, making Hawk cry out, and it’s so good, so _good,_ fucking into Hawkeye over and over again, the smell of sex and piss and _Hawkeye_ curling together in his nose and melting his brain. 

He’s teetering on the edge, so close, when the image of piss, _Hawkeye’s piss,_ drenching his hair pops into his head again, and he can’t hold out anymore, coming apart inside, Hawkeye a half breath behind him. 

He fucks them through their orgasms until he can’t anymore, then pulls out with a groan and flops back next to Hawkeye, grinning so wide his face hurts. 

“Frank’s right,” he says, trailing his finger through the come Hawk’s left on his stomach, and wonders if he’d like the taste of piss inside his mouth as much as he likes Hawkeye’s come. “We _are_ perverts.” 

Hawkeye’s cackling hyena laugh at that is almost as gratifying as the sex.

**Author's Note:**

> much thanks to alllthatglitters for the beta read <3


End file.
